


mu áibmofatnasis lea dievva ággarasaid

by tacos4days



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacos4days/pseuds/tacos4days
Summary: Elsa falls into a comfortable rhythm after returning to the forest. Slowburn.
Relationships: Elsa & Honeymaren (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

**Chapter One**

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

Honeymaren hummed a wordless song as the reindeer calf finally closed its tired eyes and fell into slumber across her lap. The moon had risen an hour or two ago and the rest of the village had long since retired. Her fingers danced across the soft, downy fur of his head. She leaned back against the carved tree, stretching her shoulders.

"We will have to name you soon, little one," she whispered softly. 

A gentle smile tugged at her lips as her eyes drifted from the small fire to the deep-red of the harvest moon. It was almost autumn, just a few months since the fog was lifted, and seeing lights in the sky still took her breath away. She gasped as a streak of light flew across the dark expanse. One, and then another. Awestruck, she felt her breath catch.

"Be sure you make a wish," a cool, lilting voice came from behind her. Her heart jumped and she turned her head.

Elsa—the fifth spirit—had emerged from the woods behind her, looking as ethereal as she had the day of her return from Ahtohallan. Long, ashen hair tumbling across her shoulders and a dress that mirrored the musical shine of the stars above.

"Spirits! You gave me quite the scare," Honeymaren admitted with a blush. "Care to sit with me? The ancestors are speaking through the skies tonight."

Elsa turned her eyes from the raining stars above them and met Maren's eyes with a small smile, "That sounds lovely."

They sat together in silence for a time, Honeymaren's senses clouded by the other woman's scent, it was always something indescribable. Elsa smelt like the very first snowfall, like the full moon and the harvest. It never failed to leave her chest tight and her heart drumming in an unfamiliar way.

"You always have a way of sneaking up on me. Ryder says I'm as silent as the night but you're quieter than a still breeze."

She watched as Elsa's eyes fluttered, her own tracing the woman's face lit by fire and moonlight. Suddenly, the former queen let out a melodious laugh and turned towards her. Honeymaren felt her heart still at the sound.

"I suppose that's a bonus to being the fifth spirit," she teased. Her hand reached out to stroke the young calf's face, suffocatingly close to grazing her own fingers. "Or maybe you didn't hear me because of this young one's snoring. He could give my sister a run for her money, that's for sure."

They shared a laugh and the cool grip on Honeymaren's chest fell away. The silence was never uncomfortable, but she always wanted  _ more _ . 

"You have a knack for showing yourself to me during the nights," Honeymaren said, an unspoken question that had lingered in the back of her mind for the past few weeks hanging from her words. After a moment, she flushed, "I mean you just seem to appear when everyone else has retired."

Elsa raised an eyebrow and her eyes danced across her face before she turned back to the sky. After a moment, she let out a breath. 

"I suppose I like your company," she admitted with what sounded like embarrassment. Was the fire playing tricks or was that a tinge of red blossoming across pale cheeks? "It's been a few months but I still don't quite feel…"

Elsa trailed off, absentmindedly taking her lip between her teeth. Honeymaren couldn't take her eyes away.

Finally, she spoke again, voice quiet, "I do love it here. Your— _ our _ — people have only made me feel welcome and accepted. The forest is beautiful, and it does feel like I'm finally where I belong. I've just always had a hard time allowing myself to get close to anyone."

Elsa turned back and regarded her, something unknown lingering behind glacial eyes, a soft intensity she didn't expect. Suddenly, Honeymaren felt exposed. 

Although she'd never admit it, once Elsa had gone away to Arendelle—to abdicate her throne and witness the coronation of her sister—it had been Honeymaren that had spent days and nights crafting a goahti for the spirit. She'd jumped at the chance, ignoring Yelana's knowing looks and Ryder's teasing. After the final touches of birch and peat moss were in place, she had spent every moment of her free time painstakingly painting murals within the suede walls, arranging the warm furs she had hunted and tanned  _ just so _ . She had found the softest moss to cover the floor with, and made sure that everything was perfect before her last act: painting the five spirits above the door. She never allowed herself to wonder  _ why _ , she wouldn't dare. 

She cleared her throat to speak, worried her voice would betray her nerves or the intrusive  _ thoughts _ and  _ feelings _ that continued to thrum through her head and her body.

"You know you're more than welcome here. Not just as the fifth spirit, but as Northuldran," she paused to consider her words. She still wasn't sure how to address the woman beside her. "As yourself. You are one of us, family. When we sang for you, it was the song that welcomes home our people after they've been away. We don't expect you to rush in and lead the morning yoik, this is all still very new. Nobody  _ wants  _ for you to do anything until you're ready and settled—" Honeymaren's lips turned up with a teasing smile, "—except maybe the children. You sure made short work enamoring them with your ice sculptures."

Elsa's eyes softened then and danced with a light laugh and a shy smile that tugged on something  _ deep _ . The woman lifted her hand from the reindeer calf to rest it on Honeymaren's, looking down to trace scars that marred her knuckles and wrist. "I suppose I did spoil them too soon, didn't I?"

A pause.

"Will you tell me what this is from?" A gentle finger ran over a long-healed mark that travelled from between her thumb and forefinger to her wrist and she shivered, blaming the brisk air and not the gentle caress of her hand.

"Mm," she grimaced a little, embarrassed, "I came across an orphaned bear cub many cycles ago and tried to raise her. Spirits, how old was I then? She was feisty and young and I was foolhardy and overconfident. After a few moons, she grew larger and I brought her to the river to fish and to the brush to forage berries. One day she took a fish I'd caught, and nearly my hand with it."

Elsa's eyes were wide and fixed on her own, and those fingers had come to a rest across callused knuckles, her touch a cool whisper against hot skin. She felt her head spin and reached her other hand to rub the back of her neck, embarrassed.

"What happened?" Elsa asked, voice serious and quiet, eyes grazing across her features in concern.

Honeymaren flushed. Not from the attention, she told herself. "Mesikämmen lives in the mountains to the east now, I like to believe she watches over our valley. She knew immediately what had happened and groomed the gash. It was a humbling and sober realization that she had grown past my care. But the wound healed quickly and I'm lucky that I didn't lose any deftness or dexterity."

The answer seemed to placate the woman beside her, whose gaze had traveled back to their hands. Honeymaren daren't breathe as Elsa threaded their hands together, resting one across her knuckles.

Suddenly she felt very conscious of her calluses. Spirits, she thought, how can hands be so  _ soft _ ? She had sometimes wondered what this woman, a myth that had appeared so suddenly and unexpectedly in the flesh, felt like. She would lay over the furs in her goahti into the night trying to imagine how it would feel to run her fingers across the skin of her jaw and down her neck.

Honeymaren swallowed hard and looked back at the sky just to catch another star streak across. Unconsciously she'd raised her right hand to her mouth, two fingers drawing soothing lines across her lips, a nervous habit she'd never grown out of. She let out a silent, shaking breath that she forgot she'd been holding, trying to bring her mind back to the present and decidedly  _ away _ from the hands that were caressing hers and the feeling of intense blue eyes on her face. 

"It's strange," Elsa hummed thoughtfully. "How you can sometimes seem so present and far-off at the same time."

"Maybe I'm trying to decide on a wish," she said with a laugh, turning to meet the woman's eyes. They were almost moonstone in the night. "Why am I wishing, again?"

Elsa squeezed her hand, just barely—just enough to make Honeymaren wonder if she had imagined it—before releasing it and looked to the sky with a smile that might have been wistful. Honeymaren immediately missed the contact.

"When I was a child," Elsa began her voice trembling for just a moment before it steadied. "My mother would tell me to remember my dearest wish when I saw a star fall across the sky. Sometimes the gods are peeking out at us and you can tell by those stars slipping through the gap of the curtain, that's when they can hear your wish. I've never seen quite so many falling in one night." 

For a moment, Honeymaren swore she saw tears pool in her eyes. Just for a moment, though, because they were gone in an instant, and she couldn't tell if it was snow in the air or smoke from the dwindling fire. She knew better than to ask. Their late nights by the fire were starting to become a somewhat regular occurrence, slowly breaking through  _ something _ intangible but important.

But her dearest wish? In the spring it would have been for an end to the mist. Now, being able to experience the world, she struggled with the notion. She recently began to struggle when she could hear the breath of the woman beside her, feel her eyes, and smell the moon and the frost on her.  _ A goddess _ , a voice whispered in the back of her head and she quickly shook it from her thoughts, wondering if the other woman would be able to hear them.

"What did you wish for?"

Elsa turned to her, the sadness or longing gone from the brilliant smile that suddenly painted her features, "I can't believe I forgot the most important part. You can't tell anyone your wish, Honeymaren. Not until it's granted."

**ᨑᨒᨎ**


	2. Chapter 2

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

**Chapter Two**

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

And so, like clockwork, every second night Elsa would appear with the faintest scent of snow and moonlight, the only warning Honeymaren could get.

It had been easy to fall into, comfortable silence with the occasional conversation—another crack opening like the spirits in the sky—and more casual touches, soft and sure. Eventually she would get used to it, she told herself. The Northuldra were open with platonic physical affection but something about the  _ way _ Elsa's fingers played across her skin made her breath still and her chest tighten.

She had appeared the night before and, because these meetings had become like clockwork, Honeymaren knew she wouldn't visit this evening. She had brought a block of timber to the hillside to pass the time, lighting a small fire just before dusk and the rest of the village retired. Settling down against the fell tree, she began to whittle away at the block of wood with a small blade.

The past few months had changed everything. She thought back to the day the sisters had entered the woods, the ghosts of the past exposed in the clearing. Their first encounter with the magic. The return of the spirits.

She thought that day was the end of everything. As if the Arendellians expelling the fog and freeing the forest wasn't enough of a whirlwind, now her thoughts were clouded. The curve of her neck, the surprised gasp before she laughed, the curious intensity of her eyes, and the furrow of her brow when she concentrated. 

Honeymaren huffed with a slight frown, taking sand from a bladder she had brought and rubbing it across the wood, smoothing the surface. She felt restless and anxious, like she needed to run the trials again. Pulling the knife close to her hand, she began to work away at the fine details of her sculpture. The figure was beginning to come to life, slowly but surely.

The moon rose beside her and she began to settle into the distraction that carving provided. The curves of the wood melded with her memories of the night the trees came alive with thousands of lights. The homecoming of a bloodline they'd thought was long lost.

She took a handful of berries from the basket beside her, tilting towards the light to distinguish the colors before biting one in half and mashing the rest with her fingers, painting the wood with the stain. She continued for some time, not noticing the chill that had settled or how deeply the smell of soot and berry had filled her senses.

She dipped the sculpture into the flames for a moment before drawing it out and polishing it with a small square of hide. 

Feeling satisfied, Honeymaren folded the hide over the delicate figure and and put it onto her bag before lying back against the fur she'd brought and closing her eyes.

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

Some time later—moments? hours? she wasn't sure—Honeymaren woke to a soft voice and, somehow, softer hands on her face. It took her a moment to blink the sleep from her eyes but she was met by Elsa leaning over her. The moon was almost directly behind her, highlighting the silver of her hair with a celestial glow.

"Oh… Good morning," Honeymaren whispered, confused, still not quite knowing if she dreamt, her hand reaching up to lazily tuck an ashen lock behind her ear. 

"Your fire was about to go out, I didn't want you to freeze tonight," Elsa breathed out and leaned back, hands lingering just for a moment before she shifted herself and settled close on the furs.

"Ah, thank you. I didn't expect to see you tonight, much less wake up to you."

"Hopefully I didn't scare you too much this time."

Honeymaren's eyes studied her thoughtfully, noting how at times like this you could scarcely believe she was a woman and not  _ actually _ a goddess of winter. One could practically feel the power leaching off of her. She closed her eyes and the scent of frost and moonlight consumed her.

"Somehow being roused by you is much more pleasant than you sneaking up behind me. You're a vision," she spoke softly and intentionally, peeking up. A smile bloomed across her face when she noticed Elsa seemed flustered. 

"I'd thought about visiting earlier but you were so focused on something," Elsa admitted, bashful. "I watched you for a few moments. You get this amazing intensity when you're concentrating, I couldn't help myself."

Honeymaren froze, wondering if Elsa had seen what she carved. A slight glance towards her bag showed that the leather was still rolled up neatly. She breathed out in relief, the sudden tension washing away.

"How long until dawn, would you say?"

Elsa tapped her lips and looked to the sky. After a moment, "Seven hours, I'd say. The nights are getting longer."

Before she could think better of it, Honeymaren reached a hand up to Elsa's face, thumb tracing her jawline. With a quiet insistence, "Stay with me for a while."

Moonstone eyes snapped to copper, seeming to look for an answer. 

A beat.

"Okay."

Honeymaren let out a breath she forgot she'd been holding. 

Elsa turned just slightly, not enough to take her hand from her face. 

Her eyes seemed darker tonight. Then, "Bruni?" 

The fire breathed back to life, low but warm. 

Gale whispered past them, rustling through wild white locks and twirling around the flames. The leather roll tumbled from its perch atop the satchel, unwinding until just a white tendril peeked out. 

Both pairs of eyes turned to see where the noise came from and a soft noise of nervous panic leapt from Honeymaren's throat.

Elsa raised an eyebrow as she looked down at reddening cheeks and wide eyes and smirked. She leant down, their faces close enough to feel each other's breath and murmured, voice low, "Is that what you were so invested in earlier?"

"It—spirits—it's nothing important, I was just whittling. It helps me think."

"Can I see it?"

A sigh, "I suppose."

Elsa's face brightened. Almost humming, she kissed Honeymaren's palm before leaning over to carefully pick up the parcel. Gingerly, she placed it on her lap.

_ Is it you I hear singing before the sun rises? _ Honeymaren wanted to ask before she could lift the statuette to the light. 

She didn't. She watched Elsa's face instead, nerves tangled.

It was the memory in the forest of Iduna saving Agnarr, wind whipping around them. The flames had left smoke that wiped away from the surface and accentuated the finer details and the fruit stains were just a gentle hint to something more.

Elsa's fingers glided over the wood, turning it in her hand. When she finally looked back up, Honeymaren's voice caught in her throat. There was an unreadable emotion behind stormy blue eyes, brewing and intense. A chill ran through her body and she realized that a few flakes of snow had begun to fall. Then, a tear. 

Honeymaren sat up fully, sweeping the few tears from Elsa's cheeks with her thumbs. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you hurt."

Elsa leaned forward until their foreheads touched, bending her face  _ just so _ and then her lips were pressed against the corner of her mouth. Her tears smelt like the spring thaw.

"You didn't hurt me, it's beautiful. How did you remember everything? It's so real." 

"Your dreams," Honeymaren began with quiet assurance. "I've seen them. I think." She gently threaded her fingers through the platinum locks, thoughtful. "It feels like you're sharing something with me."

Elsa pulled back and carefully wrapped the wooden likeness of her parents, seeming far away. Her brows were knit together in thought.

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

They sat in silence for some time, a strange heaviness in the air. Honeymaren could still smell the spring thaw lingering in the air, just a whisper of Elsa's tears on her face. She placed an unsure hand on Elsa's back, even still never quite sure if she was truly there, and rubbed warm circles over exposed shoulders. 

Elsa's tears had stopped some time past and the concern in her brows had turned to an expression that seemed lost in thought, serious and sober. Her chin rested on her knees. It was always stunning how every time she looked at that fair face there was that same feeling of leaping between the high branches of trees deep in her chest. She opened her mouth, trying to will herself into saying something,  _ anything _ , to bring the spirit back to the present. She settled instead for humming a lullaby Yelana used to sing to her and Ryder when she was a child, fingers massaging cold, soft skin in steady rhythm.

"I used to project my dreams when I was a child," Elsa said quietly, sounding almost mournful. "I haven't had this happen in years. It's hard to think that I could have sent," she seemed embarrassed now, a hint of red high in her cheeks (or was that the fire?), "rather personal scenes to you."

Honeymaren laughed softly, the sound low in her throat, "I'm sure they were personal, but they were never… They were always memories. Your childhood, usually. Your sister and your parents. I haven't gotten anything scandalous."

"Ah," Elsa's shoulders seemed to lose some tension and she turned her face. "That's a relief, I'd hate for you to see my more embarrassing moments."

And, like that, the wire unwound and the air lifted. Elsa turned fully to face her and she still couldn't get used to the catch in her breath or the pounding in her chest. There was still that  _ something _ hanging behind otherworldly eyes, the flames casting soft shadows over high cheekbones and dancing on ashen hair. Honeymaren had never seen a more beautiful sight. She stiffened when the lithe woman leaned close to her,  _ too close _ , and felt her eyes flutter and her lungs burn with held breath.

A knowing smile pulled Elsa's red lips as she leaned her body across Honeymaren, a sidelong glance that seemed darker in some way. Thar moment of closeness simultaneously chilled her bones and set her ablaze. And, just like that, it was gone. The basket of berries sat between them. Spirits, she  _ must _ have known what she was doing because Honeymaren found the breath knocked right out of her with such ease when slender, pale fingers slipped a berry between white teeth.

Gale must have caught wind of where her thoughts were drifting, she thought after a leaf slapped her face in a sudden gust. Her face burned when she caught the smirk and dark eyes that seemed to read her turmoil.

"I like the darker ones," Elsa's voice was low but somehow she seemed innocent as her lips took in another black currant.

Bronze eyes drifted to those fair fingers, stained lightly with maroon, and something else all together washed over her. She felt dizzy and anxious, tearing her eyes away and trying to focus on the fuchsia flames.

And, as clockwork was sometimes wont to do, the rhythm had ever so slightly changed.

**ᨑᨒᨎ**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don't more people incorporate that deleted scene with Elsa's dreams slipping into the real world? I always found it fascinating. Anyway, I don't have an editor and if I go back and proofread I'll just end up fucking everything up. Whatever, I've been sick for like two weeks.   
> Hope this is somewhat enjoyable; stay safe and practice social distancing, damnit.

**Author's Note:**

> After years without writing, I just couldn't get this out of my head.


End file.
